You Make Me
by Deadeye1
Summary: PG13 for some themes and language. Priss and Leon get some dating advice from their friends. The Epilogue. Thanks for reading.
1. You Make Me

Bubblegum Crisis: Tokyo 2040  
No. 28 You Make Me (Look What You're Doing To Me)  
  
"God, I hate this place," she murmured under her breath as she stalked the aisles. Wary of the hushed, quiet voices, Priss narrowed her eyes as she scowled. The lights were far too bright for her tastes, and she was hardly camoflauged, her black synthetic leather biking gear announcing her presence far greater than if she had simply whipped out a bullhorn and started singing sailing songs.  
  
"So far, so good, though," she assured herself, crouching down. The heavy scent in the air was sweet, almost to the point of making her vomit, and she slunk low, winding about the obstacles in her path with a grimace. Stopping for a second as she heard footsteps approaching, she ducked for some cover. She let her mind wander, thoughts of her secluded trailer on the outskirts of the city. The quiet, the solitude, things she loved dearly, and missed all awaited her far from where she was now. Peering out from her hiding space, she saw her ultimate destination.   
  
"One good sprint," she muttered to herself, and she bolted.  
  
And that's when she got her boot caught on the metal bra and panties rack, sending lingerie to the floor like so much debris. Lurching, her eyes widened as she stumbled forwards, choking back a gasp as she hopped on one foot to regain balance, and ended up on her rear with a thong on her head. The day's patrons at the Silky Doll lingerie store rushed to see, and Priss became the centerpeice for a miniature disaster zone, the crass biker chick surrounded by overpriced underwear as far more 'feminine' women tittered at the sight of her.   
  
Blushing furiously, she gave the spectators a withering scowl that made the laughter slightly nervous, and she bared her teeth, flinging the underwear off her head with a quick movement of her hand.  
  
Why, out of all places, had Sylia decided to put the Knight Sabers headquarters in a panty store? The thought played viciously in Priss's mind as she fantasized about garroting the Knight Saber leader with a peek-a-boo nightie as she lurched to her motorcycle-booted feet. She could think of a dozen better places to put it. Hell, for example. All the frilly undergartments hurt her eyes, and what hurt her eyes even more was the thought of some of the ugliest, overweight, or just flat out old customers that she had seen trying on some of the teeniest panties known to science. If Genom nanotechnology was being used to create this awful crap, she thought with a scowl as she kicked a gossamer thin garter belt out of her way, then this is exacly why they all had to die. Sylia had once showed her the latest in 2040 pantywear: the microthong.  
  
"That's not underwear," Priss had muttered as she picked one up, "It's an eyepatch."  
  
It was a regular combat exercise every time she needed to visit the training area, or Sylia decided to call one of her 'meetings' during the store's operating hours she thought, as she stomped over the the back room. Never having found much preoccupation in bras and panties past the fact that she put them on sometimes when she wasn't spending the day drinking almost expired milk out of a carton and watching TV, she had tried numerous ways to get past the gauntlet of rich fat women purchasing thongs, bored housewives that were trying to find something to start their office-worker husbands cold dead libido up, and airheads looking for the 'kyootest' lacy brassier. She used to try to pretend to be a buyer.  
  
Yeah, that had worked. Everyone had stared at her as if she was a fashion refugee. Where everyone smelled like perfume, she smelled of beer, cigarettes, and motor oil, not to mention that she had to lay Sylia's first (and last) hired hand flat when the snooty little twit had informed her that she should 'shop someplace else'. Honestly, punching out the 'bra nazi' hadn't been all that bad, and the corner of her mouth twitched into a smile as she threw open the door and sauntered inside.  
  
Now she went in commando style. It had become her private little game, much like eating the last cookie in the Knight Saber refrigerator, drinking the last cup of coffee, or smoking in the bathroom despite the fact that Sylia was allergic to the smoke.   
  
"Why? 'Cause I'm a bitch, that's why," she announced as she walked into the lounge where Nene was playing a game of cards with Linna, both wearing the most ultimate in bored expressions. The two girls looked up and shrugged. When Priss was having a 'deep thought' day, it was usually a good idea not to ask any questions, smile, and hoped it passed soon.  
  
"Hey Priss," said Linna as she peered at her cards carefully. Her mind wandered, and she eventually tossed them down onto the table. "Why the heck am I playing cards with you?" Linna asked with an incredulous look on her face as reality struck her. "You're a computer genius. You can count the cards."  
  
"Crap," muttered Nene, "I was hoping you wouldn't notice." Morosely, she took Linna's watch and earrings out of her pocket, and placed them back on the table.   
  
"That was dirty," Linna said with a scowl as she affixed the earrings back to their rightful place.  
  
"I was going to give them back when you caught on, really!" Nene said hastily, shrinking back slightly at the office lady's expression. "There's just nothing to do anymore. All the boomers are fixed, and Galatea's dead." Girlishly, she looked down, pushing her two index fingers together as if they were her only source of entertainment.  
  
"Speak for yourself, munchkin," called Priss as she slammed the fridge door shut with her foot, arms full of sandwich supplies. The biker made her way to the kitchen proper, her cycle boots making a cracking noise on the immaculate linoleum.  
  
"You have something to do?" Linna asked, getting up and heading to the kitchen, her loafers padding much softer than the hobnails on Priss's frogstompers. "I'm jealous. I'm so bored, I'm worksick. They just haven't rebuilt my workplace yet." Tugging on the refrigerator door, she procured herself an apple, and went to wash it. Nene soon popped her head into the kitchen, zipping over to the cutting board where Priss was using far too many condiments in a lazily built sandwich. Tenatively, Nene reached out to swipe a glob of ketchup oozing from the side of the french bread setup, and she popped the finger in her mouth, only to receive a nonplussed look from Priss. Nene rocked back and forth on her heels, wide eyed at the taller, more impressive woman, and backed up a step or two.  
  
With a snort, Priss turned out, taking a bite out of the impromptu meal, causing a glob of mayonnaise to splatter on the countertop as she walked over to the lounge again, her keen combat honed instincts panning the room for the telltale signs of the television remote. "Yeah," she mumbled over a mouth of reprocessed turkey, "Lotsa stuff."   
  
"Like?" Nene and Linna prompted, like two women starved for entertainment as they leaned forwards, staring at Priss as if she was the last helicopter out of Saigon.  
  
"Like stuff," she replied, leaning back slightly and sheilding her sandwich with a hand.   
  
"'C'mon, Priss-chan! Don't hold out on us!" Nene pleaded with wide eyes, "Puh-leeeeeze?" She brought her hands up in front of her, bowing her head in Japanese prayer as she rubbed her hands together.  
  
"Yeah, please, Priss?" Linna asked, closing her eyes as she rubbed the back of her head. "Before we started playing cards, Nene and I were trying to determine if the weatherman on channel six was a toupee wearer or not."  
  
These people are my friends? Priss thought with a wry smirk. They're the only ones that'll put up with me, at any rate. With a sigh, she closed her eyes, and took another bite of her sandwich. "Well," she started, and paused, chewing. When she opened her eyes, Nene and Linna stood by her, expectantly leaning forwards for her next word. "I..." she said, and bit into her sandwich again, pausing to chew.  
  
"PRISS!" Nene whined as Linna just grimaced.  
  
"..'m just stopping by. I dropped my other bike off with Nigel, and had a rehearsal at four." She checked the wall clock which read six, and considered, "Leon said he'd come by here at seven and..."  
  
"Wha?!" Nene squealed, her eyes sparkling as she stared at Priss. "The jaded, coldhearted Priss is going on an honest to goodness, real live date?"  
  
"Nene," Linna said amusedly, placing a hand on the younger Knight Saber's shoulder, "Let her finish talking, first."  
  
With a look of incomprehension, the biker bit into her sandwich. "He just asked if I was busy after practice and if I wanted to do something," she said swallowing and wiping her mouth with her hand. "It's been awhile, so.."  
  
"Ah, Leon! I've missed you so," crooned Nene as she fell into Linna's arms, tossing her own about the athletic brunette's midsection. With a laugh, Linna tossed her arms about the short blonde, and got into the act.  
  
"Oh Priss! I too, have longed for you embrace! Too long are the hours that pass when we are not together! My heart beateth like crazy with your touch," Linna replied in a poor parody of Leon's voice, which caused the two women to dissolve into giggles, tearing at the eyes as Priss blushed furiously.  
  
"Where the hell do you people get ideas like that?" Priss half shouted, feeling the burning in her cheeks.  
  
"Oh come off it. Remember before we left for space? Behind the satellite dish? What were you doing with your tongue in his mouth? Taking his temperature?" Linna teased as Priss's head threatened to catch fire as she turned a deep crimson as she tried to sputter an incomprehensible explaination.  
  
"Well, something hot was going on," Nene added, poking Priss in the ribs. "Seriously though. I think it's sweet. I'm glad you two are working out."  
  
"You.. are?" Priss asked in a somewhat smaller voice, blinking in confusion.  
  
"Yeah, I thought I'd have to tell Leon-pea that you had 'different' tastes ," Nene finished, quoting the word different with her fingers. Linna snorted a laugh, and Nene's straight face cracked, and soon both of them were on the floor, bawling with laughter.  
  
"Can't.... breathe..."  
  
"I hate you both," muttered Priss, turning on the TV as she sat down.  
  
  
  
  
"Daley, what time is it?"  
  
"What did you do with the watch I gave you for Christmas?"   
  
"It sucked."  
  
"What do you mean 'it sucked'? It was a great watch."  
  
"It sucked."  
  
"It had five functions and a luminescent display!"  
  
"Sure. If you count telling minutes, hours, and seconds three functions, and the 'luminescent' display only worked during the daytime, because the sun was shining on it!"  
  
"Well, it still told time! So what happened to it?"  
  
"It broke."  
  
"It broke? It was a Timex!"  
  
"Daley, what the hell is the time?"  
  
"Six, give or take a few minutes," Daley Wong said with a sigh as he got coffee from the vending machine in the AD Police breakroom. The dapper AD Police detective looked down at his larger partner, and shook his head. "What's got you all in a hurry? Usually you only go home when you run out of bullets to shoot at the range."  
  
Leon shrugged, and leaned against the wall as Daley sipped his coffee. The rough, macho looking police officer was intimidating to some, but hardly to Daley, who had known his partner so long that even when Leon wasn't saying anything, he could read him like a first grade primer. Knowingly, Daley closed his   
eyes, and sipped again at the paper cup. "We have a date."  
  
"What the..?"  
  
"A date with our singer." Another sip and a knowing smirk. Leon stood up, mouth agape, and he raised a finger as if to explain, curse, or protest. "And you have no idea in hell where to take her because you're still floating off the fact that she said yes."  
  
Leon fell back to the bench, and lowered his head into his hands. How in the hell did Daley do that? The bastard was obviously some telepathic mutant like in those manga books he read as a kid. Well, at least he used his awesome powers for good, Leon thought sarcastically, as he looked at Daley's smug expression. "Pretty much, yeah," Leon eventually replied in defeat.  
  
Now that the tension and feeling of urgency that had come with the whole end of the world thing had passed over, it seemed that he was back to square one with Priss. She was as hard to read as ever, and while she didn't call him a maggot like she used to when they first met, she didn't seem as... well... interested as she used to be, which worried the detective no end. The whole mad boomer business had nothing when it came to mysterioussness when matched with that woman's feelings, Leon thought.   
  
"Luckily, you're talking to the right guy," Daley said, opening an eye to peer down at his partner with a smirk.   
  
"And what," laughed Leon dismissively, "would you know about women? Aren't you.. uh.." Leon blinked, and raised his hand, only to let it fall limp at the wrist as he scratched the back of his head. "Er. You are, aren't you?"   
  
Clearing his throat, Daley adjusted his tie, and sniffed. "And who, exactly, do you think women confide in more often? Big, burly overtestosteroned action junkies.. or guys like me?" Daley crumpled his cup, and looked at Leon again, waving his finger as he pushed the wireframe glasses up the bridge of his nose. "I'll let you think about that. It'll take a minute for it to seep in," Leon's partner said knowingly as he watched Leon's bout of incomprehension go for the full fifteen rounds.  
  
"Hey!" The frontline officer grunted, running his fingers through his closely cropped black hair. Thinking could be an awful chore for him; that's what Daley was for. "I'm not stupid. It's just.. I mean.. damn. Well, what the hell do you think she wants?" Defeated, he kicked the coffee machine, adding yet another dent to it's base.  
  
"Ah, so he relents, and asks the master. Finally, he realizes the information before him, and thus will owe his partner big time!" Daley grinned like a man that had won the lottery, and turned about, tossing his hands in the air. "Truly," Daley said in mock drama as he clenched a hand over his heart, "this is the dawn of a new era for Leon McNichol."  
  
Setting his jaw and following his elated friend, Leon looked on with a decidedly unimpressed look on his face, and he pulled his wallet from his pocket. "How much is this going to cost me?" Leon grumbled under his breath as he leafed through the bills.   
  
"Aw, I'm just yanking your chain, although stopping at a cafe for lunch when we go on patrol would be nice, instead of always going to those horrible greasepits would be appreciated," came Daley's cool, placid reply. Slipping his hands in his pockets, he paused expertly, awaiting the answer that he knew Leon would reply with. Leon always kept his emotions so close to the top when he wasn't blowing things up, no wonder he always wanted to spend time at the range. Ah, to be in love, he thought, and chuckled. Leon was a big teenager around Priss, and opportunities like this.. well, they were to be savored at any occasion.  
  
"Alright.. fine. We'll stop at one of those places, but I'm not drinking tea, got that?" Leon grated, and scowled. The score was Leon: two, Daley: astronomical. Just once, he'd like to rattle Daley's cage a bit. Sure they were pals, but that smug, smarmy, shiteating grin that always appeared on his partner's face, especially when it came to his one (of many) weakness was really starting to get to him.  
  
"How generous of you," said the cleaner cut officer, closing his eyes. "Now, here's what you should do, if she really is that very special someone you've been pining for."  
  
"Pipe down, and keep it to the details, would you?" Leon urged as they passed by a AD police dispatcher on their way out of the room who looked at them strangely. "You want everyone to hear you?"  
  
"Oh trust me. If you score, everyone will hear about it from you anyhow."  
  
"It's not like that!"  
  
"Mmhmm. Anyhow, here's what you do..."  
  
  
  
  
"So, where's he taking you?" Nene asked, wiping tears from her eyes as she finally got up off the floor. Linna had recovered moments before, and was hastily munching at her apple, not looking directly at Priss who was taking the commercial break from her favorite show to toss irritated glares at her two teammates.  
  
Leon was Leon. He was a big, stupid AD Police officer. Seeing him wasn't a big deal. In those tense, worrisome days, she had let herself go and opened up far too much too fast to Leon, and now she was unsure. Sure, thought Priss. And maybe if I keep repeating that kind of crap to myself and beleive it, I'll run for parliament. Just kind of thinking about her police officer made her face go red. Her big, dopey, sentimental but brave teddybear...  
  
"Hello! Priss!" Nene waved her hand in front of the quiet Knight Saber's eyes, and shook her shoulder. "Romanova to Asagiri! Where's he taking you?" Nene peered at Priss's bright red face, and grinned. "Oh-ho. I see, I see. One of those places." Linna choked on her apple.  
  
"Priss! On the first date?" Linna said incredulously, her own cheeks growing red. "Things sure do move fast in the big city," she mused, bringing her hand up to cover her mouth.  
  
"Stop thinking," growled Priss in Nene's face, "it just really doesn't suit you. For your information, he didn't say, and I have no idea in hell why I'm telling you anything."  
  
"Leon-pyon must be more of a casanova than I thought," Nene chirped, eyes closed in merriment as she brought her index finger to her lips. "Of course, that means I'll have to grill him about it tomorrow. I never thought that putting you two together would turn out so well!" The bright eyed blonde was practically bouncing in her seat when Priss grabbed her by the collar.  
  
"Okay! That's it!" Priss snarled, standing up and dragging Nene over to the practice pit.  
  
"Aieee! No! Not again! I'm still healing the last bruises! Linna! Help!"  
  
"Priss, she was only teasing! Tell her you were just teasing, Nene!" Linna vaulted over the back of the couch, and grabbed Priss by both her shoulders, and tugged. Slowed considerably, Priss's face was contorted with rage as she was still able to make slow, staggered steps, Linna holding her back as Nene struggled in her iron fisted grip.  
  
No matter how much Nene kicked and struggled, it was just no use, as Priss's battle trained and heavily exercised body outclassed her strength by a considerable margin. Even Linna was more built for speed and agility rather than just raw, unadultered power. Giving up, the young blonde put all her effort into the one thing she knew might be able to curtail an early death by teammate: screaming.  
  
Linna winced at the high pitched screeching, and grunted as she braced her feet. Once Priss set her mind to something, it was damn near impossible to get her to change her mind, and it looked like Nene burger patties was on today's agenda. Gripping with both hands, she tried again with a mighty yank, and yelped as she found herself sailing backwards, pinwheeling her arms about, and landing on her back with a thud as Priss stopped moving and turned, easily dislodging Linna's grasp. With a dull thud, Linna lay on her back, sprawled across the floor, quickly followed by Nene as Priss casually let go, causing Nene to slump to the ground like a sack of potatoes. With a somewhat suprised look on her face, Priss pulled out her phone from the pocket of her bright red cycling jacket, and flipped it open.  
  
"Yeah?" Priss muttered into the receiver, completely forgetting about Nene and Linna, who were busy catching their breaths. "Oh. Hey. Yeah. I'm good. You?" The Knight Saber's confused expression shifted to a ghost of a smile as she spoke, the 'bite me' tone of voice disappearing and replaced by her more friendly conversational tone. "Oh. Huh. Really? Well..." Priss turned away from her friends, who were gradually finding the energy to stand up, to hide the indecisiveness on her face. "You see, I really.. Gah!"  
  
Nene leapt up, and snatched the phone from Priss's hand, and put it to her ear with an huge grin, bolting like a scared rabbit. Almost immediately, her more violent teammate was on her heels. "Hello? Oh! Leon-pea!" Linna winced, and buried her face in her hands. Turning back to the TV, she picked the remote up, and flipped the channels.  
  
"You're on your own this time," Linna grumbled from the corner of her mouth.  
  
"Sure she has a nice dress like that! You just stop by at seven, and we'll take care of everything, okay? Mmmhmm, bye-bye!" Nene chirruped into the receiver, knowing that in her motorcycle boots, Priss wasn't that much of a speedster. Sweat began to bead on her forehead, however, as the biker's hands swished dangerously close to her head, as Priss attempted to grab her by the head and step on it.  
  
"Dammit, Nene! I haven't owned a dress since I was in grade school!" Priss shouted, diving at the blonde and tackling her to the floor. Clattering to the floor yet again in a tangle of limbs, Priss grabbed Nene by the collar again, and shook the little girl like a maraca. "This time, your ass is really grass! I hope the AD Police has a good dental plan," Priss shouted as Nene tried to pull her head into her shoulders like a turtle.  
  
"I don't know, Priss. All jokes aside, you'd look great if we found the right dress," Linna said thoughtfully, brushing back a strand of hair as she turned about, elbows resting on the back of the couch. "I mean, you've definitely got the figure for it. Maybe Sylia has something you can borrow."  
  
"Eh?" Priss dropped Nene again, who returned to the floor for the third time that day with a dull thud. Wisely, Nene decided to stay quiet, and rub her bruised head. Mad boomers nothing, what they needed was a way to stop a mad Priss. "But I hate dresses. They always get in the way, and those stupid shoes hurt my feet," Priss countered uncertainly. Linna could usually be counted on to make Priss reconsider things, due to the guiless way she said them. It confused the hell out of Priss how anyone so genuinely nice and innocent could live in Megalos city, but stranger shit had happened.  
  
"What do you need a dress for, anyhow?" Linna asked, tilting her head with a smile as Nene scampered to the safe side of the room, being the side that had the least amount of Priss in it.  
  
"Leon's taking Priss somewhere formal. Sounds serious," tittered Nene lightly, who abruptly covered her mouth, and ducked behind the couch as Priss shot her a withering glare. "Sorry! Sorry!"  
  
Letting out a loud sigh, Priss walked over to a convenient chair near the computer terminal ,and slumped down into the seat, her leather gear creaking slightly. "I thought we were just going for a quick bite, and maybe a ride. Am I out of it or what?" Reaching to the floor where her phone had tumbled, Priss looked it over, and flipped open the cover. "Maybe I'll just call him back and fix things."  
  
"Well, whatever you want," Linna said, turning back to the television. "Personally, I bet Leon's jaw would hit the floor if he saw you in something nice."  
  
"You think so?"  
  
"Leon-poo's jaw already drops when you just wear whatever you're wearing now," Nene said with a roll of her eyes. "The boy's so helpless. Maybe it's best you don't wear one. You might end up killing him. I can see the scandals in the paper: AD Police Detective killed by loss of blood. Nosebleed caused by nightclub singer in strapless gown."  
  
"I guess one night couldn't hurt," mumbled Priss, who looked up at the incredulous stares of her teammates. "What?" Her voice wavered towards threatening as she narrowed her eyes at Linna and Nene, who both put up their hands and waved them dismissively.   
  
"Nothing! Nothing!" They both chanted, nervously, and coughed once.  
  
"Anyhow, let's see if Sylia has anything that fits you," decided Linna, who stood up, walking towards Sylia's closets in the backroom, Nene in tow. Priss reluctantly got up, uncoiling herself from the chair like a tired cat.   
  
You had better like this, Leon, she thought to herself, or criminals will be the least of your worries.  
  
  
  
  
"There. You look fantastic," Daley said as he stepped back, nodding once. Folding his arms in satisfaction, he tilted his head.  
  
"I look like a monkey." Leon peered at himself in the mirror in the AD Police locker room, adjusting the tie about his neck. "A monkey with a noose. Remind me again how you talked me into this?" His brow furrowed, "And why did you have a suit in my size sitting in your locker?"  
  
"First of all, trust me, chicks flip for monkeys," replied the other officer, brushing off a lint ball from the black sports jacket that Leon wore. The man had a big, impressive frame, and he looked rather good in a suit, despite his penchant for more comfortable clothing, and despite the irritated frown on his face, he looked dressed to kill, or at least severely maim. "Secondly, I had it sitting around because it's yours."  
  
"Why the hell do you have my clothes in your locker?" Leon turned about, shouting in his partner's face. Daley closed his eyes, and dabbed a bit of Leon's spittle from his glasses with a convenient hankercheif, and recomposed himself.  
  
"Remember that mandatory awards banquet last year? You snuck out early, and asked if you could stow your 'monkey suit' in my locker, because yours smelled like socks and that raunchy old leather jacket you always wear."  
  
"Oh."  
  
"Anyhow, I had it fixed up for you, did some alterations myself, thank you very much. It fits you much better now, doesn't it?" The less macho AD officer nodded, as if appreciating the triumph in his own handiwork. "And if you ask why, it's because I care, and you don't have to read anything into that, either."  
  
"Ugh. Anyhow, you still haven't explained to me why I'm doing this. I thought I'd just take her out for a burger, and go riding with her a bit," Leon said, running his fingers through his black hair, peering at his own face. Nah, he didn't look that bad, actually, but still. Shaking off the excess energy he seemed to have, he rotated his shoulders, and tugged at the tie again. He felt like he was going to the prom or something. Did women actually go for this zoot suit crap?  
  
"Well, it's great and all that you get along with her, but you should show her that you think she's something to be treasured. You know, that she's that special someone. Dazzle her. Amaze her. Show her that you're sensitive and caring," crowed Daley ,spreading his arms wide. "Trust me. She'll wonder where you've been all her life."  
  
"She'll wonder if I need to be committed. Daley, Priss isn't like that. She's the kind of girl that thinks microwaved pizza is a delicacy," replied the bewildered man with a sigh, still looking at himself critically, deciding that this was probably not his best judgement call.  
  
"So much the better. She'll love something more fancy that reheated rubbery cheese covered cardboard. A nice dinner and some music. You do know how to dance, don't you?"   
  
"Nobody said anything about dancing!"  
  
"You're dating a musician, and you.. never mind. I don't have time to teach you anything. Now get moving. You're going to be late," said Daley as he pushed Leon out of the locker room, and down the hall, despite protests. As he stumbled by, he noticed he actually managed to turn the heads of some of the nicer looking female officers wandering the halls, who gave him appraising smiles as Daley shoved them past. Leon smiled nervously at them, and waved slightly.  
  
Okay.. so maybe Daley's right, women like guys in suits, but still, I don't... His train of thought was broken as Daley shoved Leon in front of the souped up patrol car they drove. Tossing the keys at him, Daley smirked and nodded once, narrowing his eyes.  
  
"Go get her, champ. Make me proud, and tell me every sordid detail when you get back."  
  
"Asshole."  
  
"Love you, too, man."  
  
"Christ Daley, don't even kid," Leon replied with a half smirk on his face, and tossed off a short boy scout style salute as he pulled out of the lot. "What in the hell have I gotten myself into?" He wondered, and shook his head as he pulled out onto the highway towards the Silky Doll.  
  
  
  
"Oh my," Sylia said, as she placed a hand over her chest. "It would seem that you cut a striking figure in this one."  
  
"It's a little snug around the waist," Priss griped, looking at herself in the mirror, her eyebrows knitting as her friends stood behind her, peering at her image. Despite the fact that all of them were smiling, somehow Priss felt that it was all at her expense.  
  
Sylia had gladly opened up her vast stores of clothing for Priss's use, despite her protests to try on so many. After a lot of arguing, griping, and death threats, they had decided that basic black would probably be the best idea, since it was the only color that she would voluntarily wear. If these girls spent half the time they did worrying about how they looked compared to the amount of training they did to wear their hardsuits, I wouldn't have had to always be the one beating the crap out of boomers and guys in battlesuits, Priss thought morosely as she swept some hair behind her ears.  
  
The dress she wore was decidedly simple. It was strapless, showing off her pale shoulders and slender neck, with a tasteful but still alluring cut. It fit her body snugly, showing off her fine athletes frame, and sported a slit up the side that very nearly reached her hip, much to Priss's irritation. The damn thing was so drafty. As she had thought, the shoes she had to wear were irritating, and pinched her toes slightly. Sporting the lowest heels that Sylia could find to match the dress, they were an open-toed affair, with a good three inch spike. Muttering, she turned her head this way and that. Her choker necklace had been allowed to stay, but Linna insisted on making her wear earrings that dangled, and Nene had put her hair up. It itched a bit, and was held into place with two long needles. Priss felt like stabbing someone with them.  
  
"I look like some society rich bitch," she grumped, and Sylia cleared her throat. "Sorry."  
  
"I'm jealous," said Linna, looking Priss over, "I could never pull something like that off. I don't have the hips for it." Linna groused more to herself than anyone else.   
  
"Hold still," Nene said, balancing on the stepstool to play with Priss's hair, "I'm not all done yet." Her tongue peeking out the side of her mouth in concentration, she expertly performed her duty as a hairdresser for the evening as Sylia looked on with approval.   
  
"We'll turn you into a socialite yet, Miss Asagiri," Sylia purred, looking over Priss's shoulder at the darker haired Knight Saber's reflection. "Looking like this, Mr. McNichol may not want to let you go back home, hmm? Are you 'prepared' for that?" Amusement danced in Sylia's eyes as Priss rolled hers, and muttered.  
  
"What is this? My graduation party? Get the hell away from me. I'm getting out of this straightjacket getup. Where the hell are my pants?" Priss fumed, shoving people out of her way, and stomping out of Sylia's private dressing room, headed for the foyer. Cursing all the way, she tossed the purse that she had been given in front of her out of the doorway, and heard an 'ow'. Pausing, she blinked for a moment, and stuck her head into the foyer from the doorway, and looked for the purse.  
  
Standing in the lounge was Leon, rubbing his nose, with Priss's purse in his hands.   
  
-To be... yadda yadda yadda. 


	2. Crazy In Love With You

Just a Note: Yes, I know that cursing wasn't exactly heavy in the dubbed version, and the subbed version didn't put out too much in the way of foul languge. However, Japanese curses usually refer to such things as status and animals, not bodily parts or functions like in American curses. So when Priss calls Leon 'lower than a bug' in the subbed version, it's pretty much like calling him a dickhead. To put that sort of punch in the insults without having to deal with such things as 'you are a dishonorable hippopotomas' or such, I went ahead and put in curse words. Hope that helps.   
  
Game On.  
  
  
Bubblegum Crisis: Tokyo 2040  
No. 28 Part II: Crazy In Love With You  
  
"Leon! Are you alright?" Priss strode over briskly, a fleeting look of concern on her face as she realized she couldn't break into a trot without twisting her ankles in her heels. With a muted curse, she peered to look at the policeman's face, pushing his hands away.   
  
"Yeah, I'm cool," came the reply as he rubbed his nose again. "That's one hell of an arm you've got on you there," joked the AD Police officer with a smirk, and he tilted his head as he caught sight of Priss's clothes. "And the rest of you doesn't look half bad, either." Shaking his head as if to clear a hallucination, Leon nearly choked on his own spit. Priss was always a looker, but he could swear that his heart had stopped beating a few moments ago. In motorcycle gear, she was pretty. All dressed up, she was a hair's breadth from spectacular. Licking his dry lips, he opened his mouth to say something, and could only produce more coughs. Having spent a reasonable enough time mentally undressing Priss, it was a real shock to see that she could be even sexier dressed.  
  
"Hey, don't die on me here," Priss murmured as she pounded Leon on the back as he coughed. "Sorry about that. Didn't mean to hit you in the face." Turning her head, she turned a vicious gaze at the other three Knight Sabers standing in the door. Sylia as always wore her disturbing Mona Lisa smile, while Nene's amusement was broadcast clear as day. Linna on the other hand just gave a small smile and a noncommitted shrug as if to say 'oops'.  
  
"Wow," Leon finally managed, handing the husky-voiced woman her purse back. "This is going to sound really hackneyed, but... wow." Unable to help himself, the large man got red in the face, and a broad, toothy grin that usually meant that what he was thinking was probably not permissable at church, or maybe even a sports bar. Noticing the smile, Priss snorted, and shoved him in the gut, garnering a grunt as Leon's eyes crossed ever so slightly.  
  
"Keep dreaming, moron," Priss spat, but the look of irritation quickly dissolved to one of tenative, shy curiousity. "Wow, huh?" A tiny smile crept onto her features, her eyes downcast out of embarrassment. Noticing that Leon wasn't wearing his usual boots, her gaze slowly moved up his body. Leon's impressive frame filled the dark suit nicely, and the wingtips sort of matched his style. While she wasn't usually the type to go for the polished, GQ type, his rugged slightly unshaven features made for a nice contrast. He looked kind of like a Yakuza, a Japanese gangster in his outfit which was a style that worked for her easily. Placing a hand on her chest as if to catch her breath, she felt her own heart skip a beat. "Well, you're not all that ugly yourself," she said pointedly, masking her flustered state with the practiced hard edged voice which wavered slightly at the end, betraying it's strength.  
  
"Gee, thanks. And from the way you say it, I know you really mean it," Leon smirked, causing Priss to roll her eyes with a smile, and they both chuckled slightly. Slowly, they realized that they were looking directly into one another's eyes, and they stopped, coughing, and looking away, both wearing the same lost, blushing expression.  
  
"Kiss him already!" Nene shouted from the door, causing Linna and even the usually icy Sylia to shudder. The small moment broken, the couple looked up in unison, and nearly identical looks of irritation crossed their faces. Nene let out a squeak as she darted behind Linna, and peeked over the brunette's shoulder.  
  
"Hey! Don't hide behind me! When did I become your human sheild?" Linna frowned, trying to get away, but Nene clung on tight. One of these days, she would have to learn how to keep her big mouth shut, or at least how to whisper so that Priss couldn't hear her.  
  
"You two are going to be late tonight to whatever it is you're doing if you stay here," Sylia replied smoothly, her eyes closing in a matronly fashion. Gently, she took the two scowling people by the shoulder, and nudged them towards the exit. "Take your time. Both of you look wonderful, and you'll have a fabulous time." Sylia turned her head and jerked it in the direction of the back, trying to get Linna to shove Nene into one of the closets before Leon and Priss could change their mind.   
  
With grumbles of protests out one door, and a squeak of surprise as Linna shoved Nene into an open closet, the room suddenly became deadly quiet, as Linna and Sylia stared at one another. With a silky smile, Sylia stepped towards Linna, maneuvering around the coffee table and put a hand on the other Knight Saber's cheek, gazing into the country girl's wide, stunned eyes. "So," Sylia murmured.  
  
"Meep," replied Linna, who swallowed nervously.  
  
"You know how to play gin? I've been looking for someone to teach me how," Sylia said, waving the box of cards in front of Linna's face, who nodded an affirmative, sweat beading on her forehead. Tossing the pack onto the couch, Sylia wandered into the kitchen. "I'll go get some cookies or something, and you set up."  
  
Linna slumped into the couch with a drained look on her face as Nene crept out of the closet. "Is it safe?" Nene asked, her voice wavering slightly as she looked around the room, not spotting Priss or Leon, which didn't mean anything. The two could be waiting anywhere to get her. They both had the annoying ability to do that. With fearful eyes, she looked at the tired Linna expectantly.  
  
"Well, instead of Priss, we're stuck here with Sylia," replied the brunette, straightening her turtleneck and wiping her forehead. "It's probably a toss up."  
  
  
  
  
"So. Where the hell are we going?" Priss looked over Leon, giving him the quiet once over as the man opened the door for her like the perfect gentleman he wasn't. It was weird to see the guy in a suit, and from what it seemed, it was weird for him to be in one. Something about the way he walked made him look a little uncomfortable. Given that thought, why did he ask to take her someplace formal? Men. Dumbasses, the lot of them, not that women, kids, or anything else you could care to mention were any better, thought Priss.  
  
"You'll see," Leon said, as he clambered into the drivers seat of the police car. Priss slid next to him, and sniffed, looking around her.  
  
"Leon, this thing smells like cigarettes and pork rinds," she grumbled, folding her arms across her chest. "I don't suppose that they teach you how to clean up after yourself down at AD Police boot camp." Looking at the man from the corner of her eye, she practically chided herself. She sounded like her old self, grilling Leon. But that's what she knew how to do best.   
  
"Jeez. Bitch, bitch, bitch. You're lucky you're so damn beautiful, or else I would have left you on the side of the road," Leon said through gritted teeth as he gunned the whining engine, and pulled out with a lurch from the parking lot and headed out onto the highway. "And besides, your trailer looks like a landfill. I don't think you have room to talk."  
  
"Oh, shut up. Your greasy sweet talking doesn't work on this woman," spat Priss, who leaned forwards, and groaned at the amount of cars in front of them. Gridlock. Lovely. Stretching, she looked at Leon with her trademarked bored expression, shoving his shoulder. "Nice planning. If you're looking for an excuse to get me into that backseat, you'd better be ready to walk back to your apartment with broken legs."  
  
Reaching up, Leon flipped the siren switch, and Priss blinked. "Hey, isn't it illegal to use that when you're not on duty?"  
  
"Yeah. Why?" The big man looked over to Priss with incomprehension at Priss's concern, and shrugged. "It's kind of like leaving the toilet seat up. They tell you not to do it, but you end up doing it anyways." As if the Red Sea to Moses, the traffic seperated for the speeding patrol car as Leon's foot gradually increased pressure on the pedal. Priss shook her head.   
  
"You're a real prick, you know."  
  
"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"  
  
A wry smile settled on Priss's face, and she shoved Leon's shoulder again. "Shithead."  
  
"Better stop it with the terms of endearment. People might get the wrong idea," Leon said smoothly, winking as he made a turn. This was more comfortable. Tossing friendly banter back and forth was something he could do well. It was amazing. Priss was trussed up like a movie star in her finest, and going about uttering obscenities like a sailor, which made for a rather strange but oddly irrisistable combination.   
  
"Bite me," shot back Priss, that same wry smile on her face as she leaned back. "Don't think about it too hard, but I'm glad you called me today," she said, glancing over to the window on her side. It was starting to drizzle a bit, and she watched the raindrops patter against the side of the police cruiser.  
  
"That's me, Leon McNichol, your knight in a penguin outfit, here to save you from boredom," came the friendly reply. "Oh, and don't think about it too hard, but I'm glad you picked up and said yes." Priss turned back to look at the smirk on Leon's angular face. It looked good there. As much as she hated his attitude when he was acting like a smartass, it was that cocky posture that looked best on him. Naturally, she hated herself for having a weakness for that.   
  
"Actually, you don't look all that bad." Reaching up, Priss brushed some of Leon's hair back with her hand, and narrowed her eyes. "You could stand to get a haircut, though," she added hastily, so that Leon wouldn't take the honest compliment too seriously. The officer's heart skipped a beat as her slender fingers brushed his forehead. It was hard to think about Priss and not want to put his hands on her.   
  
"I'll keep that in mind," said Leon, who looked about the commercial district of Megalos City as the police cruiser drove down the main street. Flicking off the siren, he perused the many shops and resteraunts, and peered at Priss as she shifted her attention away from the road to her side window. Finally, the disorganized committee that made up his brain came up with the assessment that Priss was definitely hot, and setting off four alarm fires. Almost unable to control himself, Leon moved his hand from the gearshift to Priss's shapely knee in the most nonchalant fashion he could muster as he kept his attentions on the road at least outwardly.  
  
Priss paused, looking down at the hand with her arms folded across her midsection, her eyes conveying bemusement, and she shifted them to look at Leon from the corner. I really shouldn't let him leave that there. It'll give him all kinds of ideas. But...   
  
Her face softened, and Priss reached down, placing her hand on his with a soft smile, and she saw Leon tense up. Her hand was soft, warm, and she gently turned the palm up, tracing her finger about the lines that crisscrossed his hand. Bringing it up slowly, she brought it to her lips, kissing the fingertips lightly, and her eyes sparked in amusement as she saw the sweat begin to bead up on Leon's forehead. Swallowing hard, he licked his dry lips, and trembled. "Having some trouble finding the resteraunt, tough guy?" Priss asked in a soft, sultry tone, leaning to murmur into his ear.  
  
"Ahh, that is..." Leon turned his head to look at her, and Priss grasped Leon's fingers firmly, yanking them backwards with a quick motion. With a yelp, the officer yanked his hand back, and his face burned with embarrassment and anger. "What the fuck was that for?"  
  
"Keep your hands to yourself, bucko. You haven't even bought me dinner yet. If I let you touch me now, you'll be jumping me by the end of the bread course," came the distanced reply. "Now hands where I can see them, and drive."  
  
How did I ever end up falling for this woman? Leon thought darkly, his face set in a frown. So I got a little grabby. She didn't have to do that. And after all we've been through, she still treats me like crap! What did I..  
  
Something warm covered Leon's gearshift hand, causing him to break his internal ranting, and he looked over to Priss. Her own slender hand was wrapped about his over the gearshift, softly trying to ease away the pain she had just inflicted. Her face appeared distant, though, as she traced the outlines of buildings with a fingernail through the rain-beaded window. Leon opened his mouth to say something, but she quickly turned about to glare at him.  
  
"Drive, asshole," she jabbed verbally, and turned away to her window. Her hand never left his, and gently squeezed once before continuing to rub lightly. Leon tilted his head, and smirked, looking forwards at the road.  
  
"Yes, Ma'am."  
  
  
  
  
"Doesn't this place charge a month's salary for water?" Priss looked about the waiting area of the restaraunt skeptically, her half lidded gaze finally meeting Leon's face as he raised an eyebrow in mild irritation. This was the address Daley had given him, a fact that he confirmed by checking the slip of paper in his pocket for the fifth time since walking into the quietly busy joint.  
  
The rest of the ride had been... actually fairly pleasant. They had driven in silence, but it had been a comfortable one, her hand resting on his for most of the way. Every time he tried to bring himself to speak, the words got caught in his throat, and the most he could muster was an unhappy grunt when someone tried to cut him off. At the most, they had traded glances, both looking away when they made eye contact which was a more difficult proposition than it sounded; Priss simply had the most mesmerizing pair of eyes he had ever seen, and it would be fairly easy for him to go mentally numb just looking into them. The fact that Priss kept this from happening was probably a good thing, since they were going a good twenty kilometers over the speed limit.  
  
It had brought them to the dining establishment (of which Leon couldn't pronounce, due to the fact that the name was in French, naturally) of Daley's choosing far too quickly for Leon, and as much as she was loathe to admit it, Priss as well. Stepping quickly to avoid the now drenching rain, the couple had emerged into what looked like another world to them. Plush surroundings, with the tinkling of a live piano in the distance complimented the almost baroque decorations. The chandeleir overhead was just the icing on the cake as Megalos City's finest overpaid snots mingled in an atmosphere that was positively crushing.   
"Well, Daley said he fixed something up, so let's go see if this is his sick idea of a joke, or he actually know somebody down here," muttered Leon who approached the receptionist, Priss in tow with a dubious look on her face. She hated places like this. She saw enough of these people down at the Silky Doll, the ones that were usually staring at her like she was some kind of abomination. She continued to glance around herself, expecting the stares when she felt a little cold.   
  
This damn dress is slit way too high, she thought as Leon began to speak to the man behind the podium, and she reached down to straighten the seams with a muted grumble of frustration. Bringing her leg up onto one of the waiting room benches in a most unladylike fashion, she held her purse in her mouth as she adjusted the annoying shoe straps Sylia had foisted on her. These clothes were not her style, and she felt like screaming, gritting her teeth in rage. Her toes still hurt, and her head still itched, to top it off, now people were starting to stare at her.   
  
From the corner of her eye, she saw some of the male patrons tossing glances her way, wide eyed and practically salivating while women were giving her the evil eye. With her own acid glance, she peered right back at them, almost daring them to come on over and try something. Instinctively, she went to roll up sleeves that weren't there, and saw her problem: the leg she had propped up had been on the slit side of her dress, and she was giving anyone that bothered to stare a good look. Muttering, she brought her leg down, and saw the looks of disappointment cross many a man's face as she stomped over to Leon, who didn't look all too pleased himself.  
  
"Right this way, sir," said a waiter that appeared soon after Priss arrived, bowing slightly. Leon's rage was barely concealed as he grabbed his companion by the wrist, and practically dragged her after the waiter, who walked with a suspiciously limp-wristed gait. Priss's face wasn't exactly conveying much in the way of jocularity either as the men that had looked at her before were now giving her their best smiles as she was pulled along, and matched Leon's irritated scowl.  
  
"Leon, this place sucks," she hissed, looking around and killing the hopes of the people that had been looking at her previously as they were placed at a small table. The fact that the man she had entered with was a veritable hulk compared to most of the patrons had also registered, causing many Priss-watchers to become instantly very fascinated with their food or menus, and a few women to look up and take notice. Realizing this, Priss all of a sudden felt very territorial, and fired off a few evil eyes of her own before looking at Leon.  
  
Still in place was the grumpy frown, and the usually easygoing Leon was stewing, looking down at the menu with an unenthusiastic glare. "Sucks isn't the word for it," he grated, looking up at her. Their expressions matched almost perfectly, and Leon's tone took on a dangerous quality. "I am going to kill Daley. Nothing fancy, nothing interesting. I'm just going to hit him until he stops moving."  
  
"Eh? Your partner? Why?" Priss's look of rage simmered down to that of a mild frown, her hand reaching up to brush back yet another strand of hair that threatened to drive her right over the deep end. Every time she felt like taking her hair down, she kept hearing Leon's 'Wow' in her head, and it stayed her hand for now.  
  
"Because," came the reply through clenched teeth, "Guess who called in to this resteraunt, claiming I was escorting a new 'stealth police boomer' in a feild test to see how 'she' did in her natural operating environment." Priss blinked, and her small frown shifted to a murderous glare for a fraction of a second. She knew she had a pale complexion, and she wasn't the kind of girl that was prone to smiling for no apparent reason, but to call her a boomer?  
  
"The fruit dies," Priss stated, her face losing all hint of anger, going to her calm at ease expression as she picked up the menu, and flipped through it. Pausing for a moment, she looked over at him from behind her menu. Leon was still stewing, but had picked up his menu as well, when it struck her. "You didn't plan this, did you?"  
  
Startled, Leon looked up, and turned red, looking back down at his menu. "Uh, no. Daley did," admitted the officer, feeling the urge to loosen his tie a bit.   
  
"So... this wasn't your idea," prodded the woman, her face set in that frighteningly blank expression that had given Daley the idea to call Priss a boomer in the dinner 'reservation'. Leon shrunk down behind his menu as if to use the leather bound listing as a defensive barricade, saying nothing, and Priss continued to stare. An uncomfortable silence fell over the pair, and she shook her head. "So you didn't want to take me anywhere, is it? Daley made you do it?"  
  
"No! That's not it!" Leon explained hastily, and sighed, slumping down and burying his face in his hands. "Shit. This was definitely not what I had in mind for tonight," he half groaned to himself.  
  
"You get a minute to explain yourself," Priss said cooly, "Then I walk."   
  
"Damn. Maybe it's best that you do. All I wanted to do was take you out. Since you came back, you've been kind of closed up. I just wanted to see if there was anything still there... you know. Between us," he looked her in the eyes, her expression still blank as he spoke. "I just called without really thinking about it, and then Daley comes walking in, spouting off about sweeping you off your feet and impressing you, and a whole other load of shit. I figure, hell, what do I know about women? It seemed like a good idea at the time, so.."   
  
Priss reached over to press her hand against Leon's mouth, and narrowed her eyes slightly, a critical look on her attractive features. "Shut up," she said, and grabbed him by the tie. With a yank, she practically pulled him over the table to plant a hungry, passionate kiss on his lips. She closed her eyes, and he soon followed suit as she worked herself into it.  
  
She smelled really nice, and her lips were as gentle and tempting as he remembered as she managed to quicken his pulse and raise his body temperature by two degrees. Even though the kiss seemed to last a lifetime, it was over far too quickly, and they eventually broke away, a pleased but blushing look on Priss's face, and a slightly flustered but no less happy look on Leon's as she let him go, pushing him back with a shove.  
  
"There. That answer anything?" Priss asked, opening her purse and checking her makeup in the compact Nene had stored in there.   
  
"Yeah, I think so," Leon replied, still a little stunned. She gave him a ghost of a smile, and clasped her compact shut.   
  
"Leon, if you really want to see me," she said, her face growing a light rosy hue, "just call. You don't have to prove yourself to me, you know." Her voice grew quiet, to a whisper as she murmured, "You're already too good to me as it is."  
  
Leon smiled, and chuckled, which made Priss's embarrassment turn to slight anger as she frowned, "What's so funny?" She demanded, and he quieted down, but continued to smile.  
  
"This is getting kinda corny. We sound like an chick flick," he said with a smile, and Priss gave him a kick under the table, the toe grinding him in the shin, and he let out a small curse. "Shit! What was that one for?"  
  
"You're being an prick again," she said flatly, and took one of his hands in hers, looking at him with a serious expression. "Look, I'm sick of this crap. Aren't you? The world's not ending. I ain't no Juliet, and you sure as hell ain't Romeo-sama." Her face was bright red now, but she steeled herself, even as she diverted her eyes away from his. "In other words, there's no real reason to pretend we can't see each other, right?"   
  
Leon blinked. That was the most he had ever heard Priss say in one sitting, and it startled him slightly. Normally, she was into short, terse phrases, or muttered under her breath. Nodding slowly, he let her words sink in, and he squeezed her hand firmly, and she returned the favor. "So. What exactly do you mean?" Leon prodded, wanting to hear moreof what she had to say. Her voice was captivating, and furthermore, it made a lot of sense.  
  
"What I'm saying, dumbass, is that for some stupid reason, I like you. I like being around you, and I get the feeling that you're thinking the same thing, but dirtier," she jabbed, her face bland, but her eyes conveying her teasing.  
  
"Close. But probably dirtier than that," Leon said with his infuriatingly cocky grin, and he lifted up Priss's hand. "I like you a lot, too, Miss Asagiri." She shook her head, and rubbed her temple with a free hand, the cute little ghost of a smile that Leon loved to see gracing her lips.  
  
"Hey, I got an idea. You don't want to be here. I don't want to be here, right?" He said with that bastard smirk that made Priss a little weak in the knees and moist in the mouth.   
  
"Yeah. What about it?"  
  
"What's your band doing tonight?"  
  
Priss's eyes lit up, and her wry smile crossed her face as she pulled out a cell phone. "You're such an asshole," she said as she dialed the number, and put it to her ear. "Oh, and we'll fix Daley after dinner."  
  
"Vengeful wench, aren't we?" Leon teased lightly with a warm smile.  
  
"You like it, and you know it," she replied with a gleam in her eye.  
  
  
  
  
Linna was bored again, and she flipped through the channels on the television, near ready to cry. After soundly thrashing Sylia at Rummy, and trying to watch Nene reprogram the computer for funsies, it had dawned upon her that perhaps she should start looking for another job. Casting that aside, she had found the remote control again.   
  
Rarely was Linna ever in control of the clicker. Priss usually had it, and kept it in her iron claw grip that was impossible to extract anything from. When she didn't have it, Nene was losing it in the sofa cushions, or leaving it in the bathroom on accident. Altogether, it was a letdown of an experience. Linna had always thought that being in control of the television remote would be more exhilarating than this, what with the feeling of power and all. Maybe, she thought, other people have to be in the room before you can fully enjoy holding onto this thing.  
  
Commercial, commercial, tampon commercial, boring variety show, show in English, show in German, bad comedy, anime, anime, nothing good was on, but she kept flipping anyways. With all the channels Sylia could get because of Nene's semi-legal satellite dish on the top of the building, it was amazing that there was absolutely nothing on. Crud, thought Linna. I wonder what's on local access?  
  
"...arted around eight PM in the often frequented commercial district of Megalos City. The high-class establishment was overrun by screaming nightclub fans as one of the many underground bands, Sekiria set up out front, it's lead singer apparently having been unhappy with it's service. Over a hundred or so fans flooded the area, clogging up traffic and ruining the atmosphere of the swanky restaraunt..."   
  
Linna stared. Priss was never much for publicity stunts, but as the camera zoomed in to see Priss and Leon singing together at the microphone stand that had been brought in by the rest of the band, who were clearly having a good time, Linna couldn't help but smile a bit. Priss's hair was down, and both of them were soaked to the bone, but at least they were having a good time, and from what Linna could see, some rather well dressed people were joining the small throng of revelers.  
  
Standing up to get herself another apple from the fridge, Linna started to hum a tune she had heard once before when she was young. It had taken a while, but she had finally learned what it meant. "I did it... my way," she murmured slightly off key as she rummaged in the fruit bin.  
  
  
-Conclusion forthcoming. I swear. 


	3. Blame It On The Rain

Bubblegum Crisis: Tokyo 2040  
No 28. Epilogue: Blame It On The Rain  
  
The wee hours of the morning used to be the worse for Priss. During that time, she had always been at her weariest and depressed, but today was a bit different. Certainly, Priss was drenched, and smelled of wet leather, but she couldn't help but smile tiredly, leaning back as the jacket made a crunching noise comfortably around her. Leaning her head to the side, she saw Leon with a similar smile. Despite the fact that he was probably cold due to the dress shirt being plastered to his body, and his hair was in his face, it didn't show at all.  
  
"Stop off at the Doll, would you?" Priss muttered, closing her eyes. "I want to get my clothes before you drop me off."   
  
Leon tilted his head, and looked Priss over with an appraising eye. "Gonna change? Need any help with that?" He grinned widely, and was rewarded with a jab in the ribs.   
  
"Not on the first date," she murmured with a small smile, her eyes at half mast as she shifted over. "At least make an effort to get me drunk before asking me that question."  
  
"I'll hold you to that."  
  
"Hands where I can see them, dipshit."  
  
They both lapsed into a warm silence, cruising quietly on the feeling of euphoria and adrenaline that had them singing for hours. Priss's impromptu concert had eventually been cleared away by the cops, despite Leon's protests, but it had been the most fun they had both had in a long time, and had broken the ice between them. It had been fun, Priss thought contentedly. Reaching over, she pulled one of Leon's arms over her shoulder, and leaned on him, using him as a head rest, and almost purred in contentment.  
  
"What happened to 'hands where I can see them'?" Leon asked in a low voice, amusement clear in his eyes.  
  
"I can see 'em just fine where they are, thank you," came the reply. Priss looked down at herself. The dress was all but ruined. Good. Damn Sylia. Still, it had served its purpose, getting wet and clingy in all the places that had Leon staring at her for most of the night. Normally she wasn't much of a tease but as well as she knew him, Leon wouldn't try for anything more than a quick feel. The way things had been, she didn't even stop him the few times his hands strayed. It felt about right. She had probably laughed more that night than she had ever laughed, period.   
  
"Don't think about it too hard," Priss said, "But I'm glad that you called me today."  
  
"Huh. Well, don't think about it too hard, but I'm glad you picked up and said 'yes'."  
  
  
  
  
  
When Daley woke up, it was two thirty in the morning, and he was hanging upside down from his balcony by his ankles. It was cold, it was wet, and for the life of him, he just couldn't stop screaming.  
  
"I'm a boomer, huh? A pasty faced robot bitch, huh?" Priss's cold, hardsuit-covered hands shook Daley up and down, giving the AD officer a nosebleed of an entirely different sort as he yowled in fear. "I'll show you boomer, you limp wristed, flaming whoopsie!"  
  
Leon looked over the railing, and lit a cigarette with a smug, smirk on his face. When Priss had asked him to stop at Sylia's store, he had no clue that this was the 'spare set' of clothes that she wanted. Still, he didn't mind much. Priss's hardsuit was even more form fitting than the dress, and really didn't leave a lot to the imagination. Despite being coated in metal, she still had that catlike grace and agility, two things he found immensely appealing, especially since Priss was using all that skill to shake Daley like a soda can.  
  
In a calculated, measured response, Daley screamed like a sissy, and Leon shrugged. "Hey," the bigger cop said with a nonchalant shrug, "It's not my fault. She's a crazy woman, I tell you. I can't do a thing with her, or take her anyplace fancy."  
  
"Christ! Leon! Make her stop! What the hell is this? You're supposed to be fighting crime! Not causing it!" Daley bawled between vigorous shakes and rattles.  
  
"I don't know, Daley. I'm an AD police officer. I handle boomer crimes." Leon made a big show of looking around, as Priss stopped, holding Daley's foot with one hand, one battle armored hand on her hip, making her look rather appealing when she slid the visor up to give Leon a tiny smile. "Gee, Priss. Do you see any boomers here?"  
  
Priss made a big show of looking around, and she leaned over the railing, calling in her smokey voice, "No boomers here, Daley! Guess you're just SOL."  
  
"I'm sorry! Okay? Sorry! What do you want me to do?"  
  
Priss put a finger to her lips, contemplating, and she looked at Leon questioningly, and shrugged. "Any ideas there?"  
  
Furrowing his brow, Leon rubbed his chin, and then smiled. "I know exactly what we can do."  
  
  
  
  
"There you go. You look gorgeous," Leon said, folding his arms, and tilting his head in satisfaction.  
  
"You bastard! I look like a idiot!"  
  
"Trust me, fruits flip for idiots," Priss said coolly, shoving her hands in the pockets of her red leather jacket. "Just suck it up. I had to wear this stupid motherfucker all night because of you. How do you feel now?"  
  
Daley scowled at Priss on the front steps of the totem pole, where he was already getting weird looks from people, as Leon could barely contain his laughter, and Priss was almost unable to contain very unladylike snorts and guffaws herself. Dressed in Sylia's fine regalia, the brisk wind blew the strapless dress about Daley's legs, and fluttered the hem, revealing the high slit up the side, and the matching pumps. "My feet," he snarled, "are killing me."  
  
"Yeah, well we're going to kill you if you don't get in there and take your punishment like a man," Priss said with a crooked smile. Lifting her leg, she shoved her hobnailed boot into Daley's back, and the officer in drag stumbled into the revolving door. A split second later, an anguished wail that was signature Daley resounded, followed by the near deafening laughter and hoots from within the building.   
  
"I'm hungry," Priss said.  
  
"Wanna get some burgers or something, and take a ride?" Leon jerked his thumb at the Knight Saber's bike at the rack by the street, and Priss smiled.  
  
"Thought you'd never ask," was the reply, and she leaned on his shoulder as they strolled towards the parking lot, identical smirks on their faces.  
  
  
  
-And there you have it. It's a short ending, but the third part was just supposed to be a cap for the story, something to encapsulate and tie up the ends. Despite my wafflings, I am staring my writing again, but this time, I'm switching series for a bit to stretch my legs. If you happen to like my stuff, I'll be working on a Love Hina fiction fairly soon. So keep an eye out for it. Also, I have a basic plot idea for a new BGC 2040 work, unrelated to Safety Dance. Looks like that one's on the burner for a while longer...  
  
Game On. 


End file.
